


breakfast and hamster trouble

by fishbone76



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, shaynor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishbone76/pseuds/fishbone76
Summary: Shepard’s stomach made a happy flip, the same kind she’d felt yesterday after Traynor had left her cabin. The conversation was going well and flowing smoothly, Traynor seemed to be enjoying spending time with her and liking the side the Commander was presenting now of herself. “Operation Second Impression” was a success so far.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Finally an update to my ongoing shaynor series.  
> This part follows after 'Meeting Commander Shepard'.
> 
> I can't thank my dear friend defaultjane enough for beta-reading and adding her always awesome writing skills *hug* she deserves half of my Oscar XD

                                                         

 

 

 

 

Late riser Samantha Traynor sat alone at one of the mess hall tables with her buttered toast and coffee. It was pleasant for a shy person like her to not be around lots of loud people in the morning. All that babbling and laughing in the early hours when she wasn’t fully awake would just give her a headache. She preferred a cozy start into the day without being forced to indulge others with small talk.

“Quiet, just how I like it.” As she was taking a long sip of the steaming hot beverage in her mug, she noticed movement in the corner of her eye. Something red was moving toward her. Something red Traynor quickly identified as Commander Shepard.

“Commander, came to check on your new recruit?”  
It was just yesterday that Traynor had been ordered up to the Captain´s cabin by Commander Shepard to deliver an up to date report regarding the Normandy’s retrofits.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Traynor glanced at the dusty rodent cage Shepard was holding onto, but didn’t ask. The Commander put the cage onto the table and took a seat opposite the Specialist before waving a piece of paper in her hand a little.  
"Traynor, do you know an Ensign Blomquist?"

Sam sighed deeply, nodding her head a little.  
“I wish I could say no, but yes, I do. I was one of the lucky people during the retrofits to experience that man’s perfected clumsiness,” she responded, emphasizing the word “lucky” with heavy sarcasm.  
“Just thinking about him gives me a headache,” she added then, tightly pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger in an effort to banish the pain that was beginning to brew in her forehead.  
“He destroyed more than he repaired, I don’t understand how he ever got recruited in the first place, one of his relatives must be an Admiral or something. I mean, he accidentally almost crushed Admiral Anderson in the cargo bay during one of his inspections!” Traynor continued, shaking her head a little and then crossing her arms over her abdomen.  
“...well, every cloud has a silver lining; in this case it’s that afterward he was assigned to go scrub Alliance fighter aircrafts rather than kept in the retrofit team. I dread to imagine the damage he would cause if he was…” she trailed off, slowly stopping her babbling when she realized the Commander was staring blankly at her.

_Is she amused or judging me? No, definitely not amused. Great job, Traynor, you twat! For all you know the big shot that aided in Blomquist’s recruital was Shepard._

Traynor hastily unfolded her arms and went to sit up straight when that thought occurred to her.  
“Please, don’t tell me he’s your cousin or something, Commander,” she said, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood her cheeks as a lopsided smirk appeared on Shepard’s face. A smirk that didn’t really confirm or deny anything.  
“I’m sorry, Commander, I didn’t mean to-”  
“Relax, Traynor,” Shepard laughed softly, “I have no idea who that guy is or was, but it does seem that the dumb ones always make their way out alive from any horror scenario. I suppose that’s why they call it dumb luck,” she added absently, images of the Reapers invading Earth and blowing up Vancouver coming to her mind. Maybe her own luck wasn’t much more than the dumb kind either.

“It turns out that it was his fault that you had to crawl through the vents to repair the QEC cables over and again,” Shepard then said, holding up the piece of paper higher.

_She remembers such a detail from my report to her? I didn’t think anyone actually pays attention to those unless they’re looking for something in particular,_ Traynor mused silently, having to mentally shake herself when she realized she’d zoned out in the middle of the Commander’s words.  
“…my hamster loves to gnaw on rubberized stuff, so obviously, the hamster was the culprit. Blomquist mentioned you in the letter that obviously never reached you,” Shepard was saying as she slid the paper over the desk to Traynor, who picked it up and read it aloud.

_“Specialist Traynor, please send a message to Commander Shepard that we can’t comply with her request to send her hamster toward her. That little shitball bit me when I took him out of his cage and it vanished behind the wall, but don’t tell her that!”_

“Where did you find the note?” Sam asked, raising her gaze from the note. Shepard put her hand on top of the hamster cage, the movement causing dust particles to fly off of the surface. Sam immediately felt her nose start itching just watching the dust. She shoved her plate aside, further away from herself.  
_Not hungry for dusty toast today._  
“You know the bunk and storage space below the drive core?” the redhead inquired and Sam nodded to let her know that she did.  
During the retrofits, a lot of the things that belonged to the old Normandy crew were stored there. Mostly it was Shepard’s stuff, mixed with the things left behind whoever had used this space as their personal spot on the ship. Based on what she’d seen the Captain’s cabin was like, Sam wasn’t willing to believe that all the cigarette butts and ash, the junk and the data pads full of poems were something that Shepard had left scattered around. The Commander didn’t come across as the type who would sulk under the drive core writing poetry… but the mental image of her doing that was kind of amusing.  
“The cage was in the farthest corner with the note on top of it.”  
“I’m sorry, Commander,” Sam began to apologize, but Shepard raised her hand a little, the small gesture silencing the Specialist.  
“It’s okay, Traynor. It wasn’t your fault, and I found my little dude two days ago, he was munching a raisin bar under the bunk. I was looking for his cage because I can’t have him running around in my quarters, not with all the loose cables lying around… and that’s how I found the cage and the note,” the Commander explained.  
“Raisin bar,” Sam uttered, visibly shuddering in disgust, “He has terrible taste,” she then added, grabbing a knife and proceeding to dip in the jar of jam.  
“I swear, he didn’t get that from me,” Shepard said in mock seriousness, “But, considering he was able to survive on his own for this long, he must’ve absorbed some of my awesome N7-skills,” she then added, obvious pride coloring her voice.

“And if he hadn’t survived, you could’ve just bought a new hamster, it’s not like they live that long anyway,” Sam muttered as she smeared a generous amount of jam over her toast, ensuring every corner was properly covered.  
“I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but a hamster is not a real pet, compared to like… a dog, for example,” she continued, shrugging one shoulder a little before taking a piece of her perfect toast that made a loud crunch as she bit into it.  
She realized she may have crossed the line when she noticed the look of utter hurt and dismay on Shepard’s face.

“He’s not just a hamster!” the appalled Commander exclaimed, “He’s a spacehamster! A special breed between a Tessian rat and an Earth hamster. They can live up to twenty years and are highly intelligent!” she defended her precious little friend ferociously, but decided to take it down a notch upon noticing the way the Specialist was staring at her. Like she wasn’t sure whether to be scared or amused.  
“It’s also said they can communicate with their owner if you are able to establish a bond of trust and respect with them,” Shepard then said, softer and with unmistakable excitement.  
“Right, I heard rumors about a certain Commander who talks with her hamster,” Sam commented, taking another bite of her toast.  
“ _To_ my hamster, not _with_ , it’s not like he answers. Yet,” Shepard winked.  
“Uh-huh,” Sam quirked an eyebrow.  
“Look, I really don’t give a fuck what people think about me or my tendency to talk to my hamster… or any other thing. Well… what most people think about me, anyway… which is why I’d want to know if there’s a way I could make up for my terrible behavior toward you yesterday,” Shepard said sincerely. She entwined her fingers and put her hands on top of her head as she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she did, hoping her casual stance would encourage Sam to relax too.

“I tend to be very resentful, but I could be persuaded to forgive you if you were to bring me a jar of lemon curd.”  
“I can buy your forgiveness with lemon curd?” Shepard scoffed amusedly.  
“Call it what you wish, but I’m sick of the same boring Alliance jam every morning,” Sam sighed in disappointment and held up her half-eaten piece of toast as if it were crucial evidence. She turned it so that the side smeared with the jam was facing Shepard before reaching for the knife and proceeding to draw a sad face on the toast with the tip of the knife.  
“I’m Ensign Toasty and I’m saaad,” Sam drawled in a high-pitched voice. Shepard chuckled silently, lowered her hands from on top of her head and rested her forearms on the table, leaning a little closer to the piece of toast, directly addressing it.  
“Why are you so sad, Ensign?” she asked, interlacing her fingers and pressing the pads of her thumbs together as she straightened her back then, her stance making the situation look like this was a very serious and official matter.  
“Because I get the same bloody spread every day, I demand variation, Commander.”  
“That shouldn’t be a problem, Ensign,” Shepard assured, her voice dropping to a gentle hum, “Do you have any particular flavor you’d especially prefer?” she inquired with a smile then.  
“Lemon cuuurd!” Ensign Toasty proclaimed, shaking excitedly.  
“Your jam’s dripping, Ensign,” Shepard then pointed out when a few drops of it ended falling onto the table.

“Sorry, Ensign, you know what that means,” Traynor jested, directing her words to the toast before proceeding to devour what was left of Ensign Toasty. She then reached her hand out and wiped the drip of jam up with her finger. Without thinking anything of it, she proceeded to suck on the tip of her finger to get the jam off. She regretted doing so the moment she looked back up at the Commander and noticed the predatory look she was giving her. The same predatory look Traynor had found herself receiving yesterday when the Commander had not only leered at her, but had sniffed her neck.  
_I swear, if she even tries anything inappropriate, I will leave. Sure, I admit, I enjoyed the attention she gave me yesterday, but that’s all I enjoyed, the attention. The sexual aggression, however, not enjoyable at all. Not even when it’s coming from the legendary Commander Shepard._

“So, lemon curd,” Shepard raised her eyebrows innocently and Sam’s eyes were drawn to the scar that split the left eyebrow.

_Oh, great, preach about self-control while you lionize over her scar, Sam berated herself mentally._

“I would’ve imagined that the great Commander Shepard, who has traveled through the Milky way and beyond, and has seen things no one else has would have also encountered the most brilliant invention ever introduced to the humankind… namely, lemon curd,” she said out loud then, offering the most disappointed look she could muster, “Have you ever been to the UK?” she then inquired, genuinely interested.

Shepard’s stomach made a happy flip, the same kind she’d felt yesterday after Traynor had left her cabin. The conversation was going well and flowing smoothly, Traynor seemed to be enjoying spending time with her and liking the side the Commander was presenting now of herself. “Operation Second Impression” was a success so far.

“I’ve been there twice, but I don’t have many memories of it, I was just a little girl at the time… and I don’t recall ever coming across lemon curd.”  
“Have you been to London?”  
“No, Edinburgh. At least I think that was the place… based on what my mother told me about how I wrecked one of the suits of armor that were on display in Edinburgh castle. Allegedly, I tried to take its lance.”

Hearing Shepard mention her mother piqued Sam’s interest and curiosity. It was common knowledge to anyone paying attention to the ANN’s documentary about the Hero of Elysium that Shepard had grown up without a father.  
“Despite your penchant for destroying things, I’m sure your mother is proud of you.”  
“I guess so,” Shepard offered, shrugging one shoulder a little. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about her mother and went to ease the conversation back to the previous subject.  
“So, since we’ve established that despite all my experiences and travels I have no idea what lemon curd is exactly nor have I ever tried it, I’m going to need more intel on the subject before I can even get started working on procuring a jar,” she grinned.  
The way Sam’s eyes sparkled at the mere mention of the substance and how her voice hitched with excitement, Shepard deduced her plan to subtly change the subject was working brilliantly.

“It’s a thick, creamy spread that is made by cooking together lemon juice, egg yolks and sugar. My mother adds butter to the finished curd, just to add a little extra richness and an extra-silky mouthfeel,” Sam explained, pausing for a moment as she sucked on her tongue and ran it over her teeth almost as if actually being able to taste what she was describing as she was talking about it.

“She makes the best lemon curd in the galaxy… but right now, I’d even settle for the store-bought kind, that’s how desperate I am.”  
“Is your mom a cook?”  
“Oh, no, she’s a math teacher and my dad’s and electrical engineer,” Sam replied.  
“Aaah,” Shepard mumbled, leaning back and tilting her head back too a little as she did.  
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that ‘ah’”, Sam quirked and eyebrow and Shepard chuckled a little, once again shifting in the chair, moving to rest her arms on the table.  
“Well, you know, kids whose parents are teachers are always _geeks_ ,” Shepard said, stretching the last word playfully.  
“I’m a _nerd_ , not a geek!” Sam scoffed, clearly offended by the Commander’s inability to tell the difference.

“Aren’t they the same thing?” Shepard blinked slowly.  
“Well, consider this your homework, Commander. Figure out the difference and let me know when you do,” Sam said and patted Shepard’s hand encouragingly.

The Commander glanced at Sam’s hand over her own and then quirked an eyebrow, a small smile tugging the corner of her mouth. Sam could tell Shepard was struggling to keep herself from making another pass at her.  
“So, you were talking about your family. Please, go on,” Shepard said after clearing her throat awkwardly and Sam smiled.  
_She’s trying so hard to prove that she can behave. I must admit, I’m kind of flattered, but she’s still not going to get her hands into my pants_.  
“My mom’s of Indian heritage, my dad’s Cockney, but I grew up completely British. My parents are both originally from London, but they left Earth after my twin sister died shortly after we were born. Untreatable heart failure,” Sam elaborated, pausing for a moment before shrugging a little and continuing, “They wanted to start anew and decided to go for the colony life.”

“I’m sorry about your sister,” Shepard offered softly. _Especially when I consider that I could have two smart and beautiful Traynors running around_ , she added in her mind before mentally kicking herself for being so damn inappropriate. At least she hadn’t said it out loud, that was something.

“So, which colony are you from?” Shepard asked.  
“Horizon,” Sam answered and noticed the way Shepard seemed to pale and grow tense at the mention of the colony. She waited a moment before continuing, and since Shepard didn’t comment, she spoke again.  
“I grew up there, though my body had trouble adapting to the planet’s atmosphere and bacteria, which graced me with asthma and several allergies… which… admittedly, seem like trivial problems when considering everything else going on. I was there when the Collectors hit,” she went on.

A cold fog dragged Shepard into a flashback and Sam’s voice slowly faded into the background, barely audible to Shepard at this point.  
_Kelly._  
…and thousands of others like her, stuck in stasis and trapped in pods. Faces distorted in terror, then pain. Shepard swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat when she considered that Traynor could’ve ended up with the same fate.  
“You saved us,” Sam spoke, unaware of where Shepard’s mind had wandered off to, “I even saw you fight that huge bug.”  
“The Predatorian,” Shepard muttered absently.  
All those people… and for fucking what, to build a human Reaper? It was disgusting and beyond appalling.  
“And then you came to the rescue with a Krogan and bald woman.”  
“Shaven, not bald,” Shepard mumbled absently. Not that it was a big difference, but she had a feeling Jack would’ve made that correction had she overheard the comment.  
“…right,” Sam cleared her throat, “Either way… we were hiding in a comm tower and the Collectors were about to break in when you arrived and drew their attention to yourself. I wanted to thank you yesterday for saving my family, but I forgot about it when…” she trailed off, shrugging a little. She didn’t need to explain further.

“Yeah, my behavior was out of order, I promise that won’t happen again,” Shepard assured.  
“Indeed, it was and it better not happen again,” Sam chuckled, her eyebrow quirked as she thought back on yesterday and Shepard’s less than tactful attempt at hitting on her.  
“I meant no disrespect,” Shepard said sincerely.  
“I understand that, but if you want me to feel respected, I’m going to need you to keep the flirting to a minimum… Commander.”  
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to scare my Specialist away with my sexually rampant behavior,” Shepard joked a little and Sam offered a smile. Apparently, the matter was closed.

“Just in case I can’t find any of that lemon curd for you, is there anything else I could do?” she then asked and Sam took a moment to think about it.  
“Well… I got used to leaving at the end of the day when I was working on Normandy’s upgrades, so I didn’t think to bring a decent change of clothes or my toothbrush with me. The clothes I don’t really mind as much, but I do miss my toothbrush,” Sam said, seeming to slump a little in her seat, “The standard Alliance-issue toothbrushes are murder on my gums,” she sighed.  
“Next time you need something, just let me know,” Shepard began, lifting her arm and activating her omni-tool, ready to type, “We can put in a requisition order.”

“…my toothbrush is a Cision Pro Mark four. It uses tiny Mass Effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums,” Sam began awkwardly and leaned in closer to the Commander before adding in a whisper, “It costs six thousand credits.”

Shepard did a double-take before pausing to just stare at the Specialist, blinking slowly as she tried to process what she’d just been told.  
“Okay, right!” she finally said and put her arm down after deactivating the omni-tool, “I don’t think the Alliance is gonna dish out six thousand credits for a toothbrush just because Commander Shepard asks for one, so… sorry, you’re on your own with that.”  
“Well, of course not, if you tell them it’s for a toothbrush. If you’d word it slightly differently and made it clear that it was possibly a matter of life and death of an important crew member…”  
“More like comfort and discomfort rather than life and death…”  
“You’re not gonna play along, are you?” Sam sighed and Shepard shook her head, smiling.  
“Well, it was worth a try,” Sam then commented, got up and began to clear the dishes away.

Shepard noticed the other woman seemed suddenly somewhat sad. She couldn’t tell for sure if it was because of the talk about Horizon bringing back bad memories for the Specialist as well, or perhaps the mention of her family made her miss them… or, who knew, maybe she was mourning the loss of her toothbrush. Frankly, at that price, Shepard probably would’ve mourned it too. She made a mental note about the particular brand and model, and decided that she’d buy it for Samantha herself.  
_That makes for one hell of an ace up my sleeve in case I fuck up courting her… again._

Shepard grabbed the dusty cage, stood up and followed Traynor to the kitchenette. While the Specialist busied herself by loading the dishwasher, Shepard took a damp cloth and began wiping the dust off of the cage with it.  
“How did you keep the hamster from gnawing on the cables and other things without the cage?” Sam wondered aloud, leaning casually to the fridge. She glanced over to the med bay when she noticed movement. Doctor Chakwas stood at the window, facing them with coffee in hand. She waved a little with a smile, and Sam returned the gesture.  
“By locking him in the bathroom,” Shepard answered, unaware of the silent exchange going on around her, “Gotta admit though, it’s no fun collecting all the poo nuggets after a hard day’s work just to find out I missed a few when I step on them barefoot after showering,” she continued.  
_…let alone having to pick them out from between my toes,_ she added mentally, deciding it best not to mention that part out loud.

“Note to self: never use Shepard’s shower,” Sam commented, the implication that she’d be invited to use it in the first place not escaping Shepard. She glanced at the Specialist and grinned, causing the other woman to clear her throat awkwardly when she caught on with the thought.  
“And here I thought I could make up for everything I’ve said and done wrong by letting you use my nice, comfy, actual shower.”  
“Nice, comfy, actual shower with poo nuggets. No thank you, Commander.”  
“Hot water that lasts forever,” Shepard continued persuading in a sing-songy voice.  
“I might change my mind if I can watch you thoroughly clean the shower first. Seeing my commanding officer on her hands and knees, scrubbing the shower just for me might even be worth suffering a poo nugget or two, should you miss any.”  
“I can do amazing things with my hands while I’m on my knees, not just clean,” Shepard countered.  
“Oi, you promised to behave,” Sam warned her playfully, wagging her finger at Shepard. For a moment, the Commander was tempted to just grip Sam’s wrist and suck on the tip of said finger, just to see what Sam would do.  
_She’d probably blush to death. And I’d be charged with harassment._

“That I did, and I also promised I’d make up for my terrible behavior, so if there’s anything I can do, let me know,” Shepard said.  
“Well, you could invite me over to your cabin for a game of chess… and maybe a shower, if I change my mind about that later.”  
“Chess?” the Commander repeated, swallowing hard. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Samantha.  
“Are you afraid of chess, Commander?” she taunted.  
“No, I just hate losing, and any game that doesn’t involve explosions and at least some running and screaming has to be pretty boring,” Shepard dismissed.  
“You are a logical person, you have to be in your field of work.”  
“True, but I prefer letting my fists do the talking whenever possible.”  
“How are you at math?”  
“Better than average, why?”  
“Because if you’re good at math and possess logical reasoning, you can do well in chess. Maybe not well enough to beat me, but you might be able to provide a challenge even to me,” Sam tried convincing the other woman.  
“This is a trap, you’re buttering me up in the hopes of being able to kick my ass in the game and then tell everyone you beat Commander Shepard in a game of wits,” the redhead narrowed her eyes.

“If you don’t mind my intrusion, I can assure you that playing chess is good for you, even if you don’t win. It promotes brain growth, exercises both sides of the brain, teaches plan-” Doctor Chakwas began as she joined the two women in the kitchenette.  
“All right, all right!” Shepard interrupted, reluctantly having to surrender, “I’ll let Traynor know when I have some free time on my hands.”  
“Splendid,” Sam hummed contently.  
“I’m going to regret this.”  
“Don’t be so grumpy, it’s not like you’re going to lose an eye, Commander,” Doctor Chakwas shrugged innocently, “The only thing you’re likely to hurt is your pride and overconfidence, and frankly, getting both of those taken down a notch would do you good,” she winked with a smile and patted Shepard’s shoulder.

 

Half through Samantha’s shift the chime of her omnitool announced an incoming message. Activateing the device she lifted her left arm and opened the inbox, it was a text message from Shepard.

 

_Subject: I made my homework_

_After intensely studying the characteristics of Geeks and Nerds I came to the conclusion that you’re a Geerd. (⊙ヮ⊙)_

 

_Sincerely Shep_


End file.
